At Least it was Here
by kcrae
Summary: Annie and the study group have something to tell Jeff and Britta. Rating for Chapter 3 but the ending of Chapter 2 will Suffice if you're looking for a more PG ending.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: The title of this fic, as well as the titles of each chapter, is a song title from the band The 88. They recorded the Community theme song, 'At Least it was Here'for the show and it can be found on the official soundtrack. The other titles are from their album _Not Only…But Also. _Periodically I sprinkled their song lyrics into the dialogue or thoughts of Jeff (the POV character). This is NOT a music fic. There is a soundtrack if you're so inclined; it's just what I was listening to while I wrote. Since I'm posting this as separate chapters I'll include the soundtrack on my Bio page. Also, if I owned the show Jeff and I would be BFF's. Thankfully, I don't.

At Least it was Here

Chapter 1: Waiting for the Next Drug

The study group files out after their cram session for Bio 101 but Annie had texted Jeff earlier and asked if he would stay after and talk to her for a second. So as she tells Troy and Abed she'll be home later, he finalizes movie plans with Britta (who agrees to buy the gin if he provides the cable) and sits back down.

"So, what can I do for you?" Jeff slides his hands behind his head in preparation for the imparting of wisdom on his youngest friend.

"Jeff, we need to talk about us."

Whoa. Great, this is not what he needs on the Friday before a test. Not that he doesn't adore Annie, he does. The problem is no matter how fast either of them is maturing, he is still 16 years older than her and in no mood to become a pervert. She is a beautiful, smart, charming, beautiful (needed to be said twice) young woman that he would love to get in the sack under any other circumstances. Unfortunately she is also about 10 years too young and one of his only real friends.

"Annie, there is no 'us,' remember? I really think you may be reading into things that just aren't there. That can't be there." He sighs and pats her on the head in the most fatherly way he can imagine. "Look, kid you're great but-"

"No Jeff," she's standing directly in front of him now and he gulps and takes a step back. "There isn't an 'us,' but there could have been."

He doesn't want to do this. He really doesn't. Honestly, he thought she was over it and sure he has had some lingering glances, thoughts, but it's only to be expected. He would never again act on them the way he did at the Tranny dance. Still, he'd also rather not have to try and let her down gently.

"Annie-" She huffs and impatiently cocks her hip to the side. In that moment she reminds him of Shirley and he holds back a laugh. He sits down and gestures for her to continue.

"Jeff, you are going to let me finish. There could have been and I know you say it's because I'm too young, or that's what you will say, but even if I wasn't 20 and you weren't 37-"

"36."

"-36, we still wouldn't work." She wraps an arm around herself, looking more like her 20 years than she has this entire year. He moves to put an arm around her but she steps away and puts her hand out to keep him in his chair.

"Annie, what's going on? Why the sudden desire to share?" She has the biggest, most round-eyed, Disney face he has ever seen and his brain struggles against it like a mouse caught in the jaws of a python. "Annie?"

Her face changes then, the Disney melts away and he's left with something akin to Britta's smug look. He hates that look on Annie. Its okay on Britta because she's, well, Britta. She is angry, needlessly defiant, damaged, vulnerable, but unwillingly to admit it, Britta. On Annie it makes him feel like a failure and he isn't sure why.

"What is everyone doing tonight?" He raises his eyebrow to question. Why the change in topic, he wonders, but relents anyway when she keeps her face a mask of smug indifference. On second thought he likes to wipe that face off of Britta too when he sees it. Maybe he only likes it on himself…

"The study group, you mean? How should I know?" He leans back in his chair and kicks his feet onto the table.

"Think about it." Hmm, well its Friday, he thinks, so…

"Okay, I think Shirley is going to dinner with Andre because it's date night, right? And Abed and Troy are having an Inspector Spacetime marathon-they invited you earlier but you said you'd probably study tonight. Pierce, I don't know what he's doing but my guess is ordering things from the home shopping network that he doesn't need because he has no life outside this room." Feeling pleased with himself Jeff smiles up at Annie. "Are you trying to prove I don't care about anyone?"

Annie looks pleased too, which is unnerving. "Nope," she chirps, "what about Chang?" Jeff thinks for a minute…what about Chang?

"What about Chang? He moved out of my place months ago, I have no idea what he's doing. Let's get on with this. Just make your point and accuse me of whatever it is you think I've done wrong and I can tell you how much I don't care and we can both go home."

She turns her head and appears to carefully study the table. When she turns to him again her eyes are the slightest bit moist but she blinks away so fast he almost can't be sure what was there.

"You forgot you and Britta" She walks her fingers over the top of the table.

So that's what this is about. Annie thinks he and Britta are still sleeping together. Easy. He'll just let her know they're not. Well, not as much as last year. He can actually count how many times they've hooked up since their declaration to stop seeing each other on one hand. Jeff cocks his head. He can feel his eyebrows dip down and his forehead crinkle up. He consciously makes an effort to smooth it out. He'll be damned if he gets premature forehead wrinkles because of Annie. "What about me and Britta?"

"What are you doing tonight?"

"We're watching a movie at my place. It's some documentary about the Sudan, because her cable is out. Again. She'll bitch and I'll tell her it's stupid, because it is. Half way through she'll be drunk enough that I can change the channel and we'll fall asleep on my couch watching reruns of the Real World on MTV7 or whatever it is. What's your point?"

She pushes the tip of a manicured finger nail into his chest and he absently notices her purple nail polish matches her cardigan. Britta would never do that, probably because she always wears so much black.

"That _is_ my point."

"That Britta is using me for my cable? I know." Annie leans against the table and dips her head to look down at him.

"Ugh, no, my point is that nothing could have ever happened between us because of you and Britta."

"There is no 'me and Britta.' Not since last semester and you guys freaking out." She laughs at this and Jeff tries to glare as menacingly as he can but she is only laughing harder. "There. Is. No. Jeff and Britta."

"There is too, and neither of you want to see it. You spend every Friday night together whether the group is there or not, don't pretend you don't!" She holds out her hands and using her right pointer finger to tick off strikes against him. "You spent an entire year sleeping with each other behind our backs. You started the group just to get her, Jeff, and now you've got her and you're not doing anything about it. You still snark at each other and bicker and get us all in trouble. You're still putting yourselves before us and unless you guys get together soon you're just going to keep doing it. And that's more unhealthy then you both just…getting together."

"This isn't one of Abed's films, Annie, you don't understand about Britta and me-"

"Yes I do, believe me, we _all_ do."

"We?"

"Yes, I drew the short straw to talk to you about this but the group decided together. Well, except Pierce. He said it didn't matter since you and Britta were so obviously gay."

"What?" Jeff reflexively kicked the bag beside his feet.

"Yeah, he said-"

"Not Pierce, what about the group, what did you decide?"

"I was chosen to talk to you because we think you'll be the most receptive. Britta, we thought, would be defiant on principle. Shirley's tried and-"

"How long have Britta and I been the hot topic of discussion with you guys?" She has the grace to blush when he interrupts her. It reminds him how young she still is.

"That's not the point and you know it! We know you don't want to admit it but you're fighting each other because of all this tension and it's annoying. It's ridiculous how you always have to compete and be the center of the others world or one of you is sulks. If you're not conspiring, you're arguing. We think you're hurting each other. You're, like, two-of-a-kind, and you don't even know it!"

"What? Is that some Abed reference to Casino Royale? Is he making you watch the Ocean's Eleven movies? The first one was the only good one?"

"No. It's from the vote, the one last year when we were trying to decide if Pierce should stay in the group or not."

"I remember the vote Annie," he says it in his most monotone voice.

Even if she is only trying to help this conversation is getting on his nerves. He irritably runs his hands through his hair as he tries to calm down and not yell at her. She doesn't deserve that, this isn't her fault it's everyone else's. How dare the group tell him and Britta what they should do with their lives. If they want to be friends then that's what they'll be and if they want to fuck that's what they'll do and if they don't then they won't but it has nothing to do with a stupid study group. And how dare the cowards make Annie do this.

He sighs, "What about the vote?"

"Please don't be mad. We started-well, I started-calling you guys the Spades, its code. See during the vote I was still sort of hung up on you and I was going to wait to see how you voted before I put my card in. Only when you slid your card in you did it at the same time as Britta. I mean, it was perfect timing, I was watching. You turned to each other, locked eyes, and slid your hands forward. You two just moved in sync. The cards you guys put in were the King and Queen of Spades. That's when I knew. It just sort of, caught on."

"They were just cards!" He roughly tugs his hair and leans back, his spine stretching as he moans piteously. Or, he's hopes it is, he's going for piteously.

"You guys are wasting time running from something amazing and the sooner you see it, the better off we'll all be. The better off I'll be…" She drags her bag off the study table and heads towards the door. She is there before he can even stand up. "Just, think about it. I'll see you Monday, have a good weekend." Her hair whips back as she smiles over her shoulder and the door slams, leaving him alone. He is supposed to be home in three hours for his and Britta's documentary non-date. He'd blow it off but she still has a key from when they were regularly hooking up and will just go in and get drunk without him. He'll have to go home sometime and she'll still be there.

He doesn't know how he'll be able to face her after what he just listened to but he hasn't left himself a whole lot of options.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: I'm Nothing

When he gets home Jeff throws his books on the hall table and switches on his stereo system. He sheds his dress shirt and jeans and pulls himself up on his pull up bar. He swings his legs up and begins to twist upward on the upbeat. Crunches clear his mind, or at least make him tired enough he usually forgets what's bothering him. Over the blood rushing in his ears Jeff can hear Annie's words slide into his brain, "how much better off I'll be." Underneath the pop anthem that is pouring out of his stereo speakers her clipped refrain, "because of you and Britta." The universe must hate him because around that time a singer, who sounds a little gay to him, says something like "but I love you more than words could say" or some other lie that makes naïve people like Annie think there is something as amazing out there as true love. Which, for the record, there isn't.

He's on his fifth set when he's worked the conversation through his mind enough to be considered too much. He swings down and, kicking the rest of his clothing into a corner of the bedroom and sliding off his briefs, heads for his shower. His is a small bathroom. Its nothing like the one at his condo, well, except the faucets. The Italian ones he picked out in another life and Britta stole back for him in this one. They're out of place against the black and white wall tiles, shallow sink and too short tub but he likes them there all the same.

Britta.

He thinks about her laughing at his jokes, drinking with him, dancing with him, and the way she flinches whenever he touches her face. Everything with Britta is course and rough and if it isn't she almost doesn't know what to do. He remembers how she looked when she told him she loved him…he also remembers how she looked when she told him she never loved him. Oddly enough that had been the conversation that allowed them to pick up where they left off after the first paint ball war. It was her commitment to not loving him and his commitment to not loving her that allowed them to sleep with each other for an entire year without remorse. It was their dedication to not caring about each other that made them comfortable enough to get to where they are. It allowed him to be the only person she let into her apartment after her cat died and made it okay for him to give her a key when he needed her to take care of him because he had the flu. It let him see her with the sunlight shining through Abed's window and onto her hair, before they got up to get dressed and he walked in on them. Jeff knows the way her eyes light up when Radiohead songs come on the radio and how she sings 'Creep' off key in the shower and how she takes her eggs (she doesn't, she prefers fruit) and coffee (1 raw sugar, no cream) in the morning and what she orders on her pizza (black olives, mushroom, green pepper, no cheese). 

Britta.

He didn't think he loved her. Now he doesn't know now. When Annie asked him at the Tranny dance, before he panicked and kissed the first female thing that gave him the opportunity, he told her Britta made him feel like himself. Who is he without Britta? Still himself or…less? He hasn't had to find out or even think about it until now. He doesn't want to be nothing without her but he's been validating himself by her opinion of him for so long he's not sure he can stop. When she did that happen? They pretend they don't spend every Friday night on his couch or hers or at 'L' Street/Red Door. She goes toe-to-toe with him whenever she feels like it and if anyone asks she says she'd rather see him dead than on her doorstep, but then she always smiles and lets him in.

Sure, he can admit it. Maybe there's something.

So, Annie and the others may have a small point. They trust each other. They challenge each other. They fight and snipe at each other. It's only because they care enough what the other thinks to do so. She's his friend and he's hers. She's the anti-Winger, how is he supposed to resist that, he's the Vincent Vega to her Mia Wallace. On a somewhat related note the sex after Abed's birthday had been absolutely mind blowing and totally worth the debacle and, even if she didn't admit it at the time, worth her job at the Greasy Fork which she hated anyway.

Jeff runs his hands shakily over his head again and tries not to remember. The water sluices off him with an audible splash.

He'd wanted her the minute she put on his shirt for the costume and later that night she'd even worn the wig in bed as a joke. It was hot.

Britta.

All curled up on the couch in one of his tee shirts, watching reruns of The Soup. She'd have one of her many leather jackets (some vegetarian she is) over the back because she never uses the coat rack. That sight belongs to him and he used to see it every Saturday morning. He'd listen to her joke about how he looks like the host and he might say the host looks like that douche from American Idol. She'd say she doesn't watch that show but she still knows who he is. And he'd say he hates that guy and she would agree.

The water is turning him prune-y and his hair is probably drying out so he adds more conditioner and listens as he hears the front door open.

"Hey, I bought the diet tonic, that is what you meant by Gin Slimline right?"

He left the bathroom door open just in case this happened. A year ago she would have stripped down and came into the shower to join him. Today he wishes she would because he's still picturing her in that dress shirt and even without the wig it makes him want her again. The strangest things do that to him. These last few months he's gotten unbelievably good at ignoring all the little things that turn him on about Britta because indulging like he did before has become somewhat passé these days. Especially after Abed called them out on it and they agreed to stop.

"In the shower, you know the key is for emergencies," he calls out over the music on in his living room. He hears nothing for a beat and then the air shifts and he knows she's at the doorway.

"I didn't want it to get cold." H can practically hear her smirk through the steam from his shower.

"Order a pizza, I'm buying."

"Oh, carbs, you must be having a bad day. Black olive, mushroom, green pepper, no cheese?"

"Whatever, sure." She doesn't have to ask and he doesn't have to answer but they do any way because that's what friends do. Maybe one of these days he'll feel adventurous and they'll get pineapple. Probably not.

When he gets out and wraps a towel around his waist he notices she's changed the radio station and something more 'alternative' is on. It's something with a lot of minor chords that remind him of the 90's and his mid-twenties. She's toed off her tennis shoes and there are two highball glasses on his coffee table along with a pitcher of a clear liquid he can only imagine is the Gin and Diet Tonic she promised. He ignores the fact that she's using the wrong glasses because she's already added ice and poured already. She is thumbing through his TV guide on his couch. Her socks are mismatched, one grey and one a faded black. She's got on a pair of jeans that he knows he likes on her and a threadbare blue top she only wears inside and when she isn't going anywhere important because parts are faded through to almost nothing. One of the only brown leathers she owns is hanging over the back of the couch.

"Welcome back forehead, Puree's best thin crust is on its way and the documentary starts in 20." She looks up and smiles. "It's just enough time for you to put on pants and finish a drink." He's thinking it'll be best if he does this like a band-aid.

"I'm gonna need that drink now, actually." He sits on the couch and doesn't bother with pants quite yet. He's got a towel and it's not like it's anything she hasn't seen before.

"Okay?" Her brow furrows that little bit when she's contemplating someone's motives and he ignores it.

"I talked to Annie today." He lets it hang between them like a pall. The first argument they had, real argument after they started sleeping together, was on the way off campus the day everyone accused them of putting themselves before the group and it was about Annie. Coincidently it was the last one because that's when they decided to call it quits. Still, they managed a little indiscretion after Halloween and those awful sanity tests and a guilt-free quickie after the Dean went all Apocalypse Now on the Greendale commercial. And maybe he was forgetting a small Glee Club Christmas fiasco themed romp in his backseat on their way from Shirley's non-denominational Christmas party. Still, they were technically 'off' and the Annie thing never did sit well with her. Britta thinks he should have treated Annie better and tried harder not to mislead her. Now she's quietly judging him.

"Ugh, you know thinking about you and Annie skeeves me out." Maybe not so quietly.

"As you've said. I told you, Annie and I are platonic. She was just, she's young and impressionable. Remember Vaughn?"

"Then what's up? Is everything okay?" She wanted to blame him. He can see it in her eyes. She assumes he's done something wrong like-how did she put it?-stick his tongue in a teenager.

"No Annie's fine. Apparently the study group decided she should be the one to tell me." She leans back, smirking. He can't wait to wipe that stupid smirk off her face.

"Tell you what and why wasn't I invited?"

He waits for it to sink in. Why wouldn't she be invited unless…there it is, the slow realization that it must have been about her too. Britta's mouth forms this little 'o' and her eyebrows sink down again as she thinks and then rise into her forehead as she gets it.

"Exactly. It was about us, _you_ and me. Not _me_ and Annie." She scowls and he nods in agreement as he lets his head flop back over the top of the couch. He can feel drips of water running down his torso but he ignores it.

"What do you mean about us? What about us?" She adjusts herself to give him more room and turns on the couch, tucking one foot up and under her other leg. He smirks because he knows she knows but doesn't want to admit it. He knows this because he felt the same way. It's always about them isn't it? They have a…something. It's not a relationship but it not-not a relationship. It's whatever you have when you're more then friends and less than lovers. They were lovers, for almost a year. Then they weren't. Somehow though, they never went quite all the way back to non-lover status.

"They think we should come out of the closet."

"Pfft, what?" Her eyes are incredulous but he doesn't miss the lie. He can see it in her face, in the way she turns to him. She expects him to lie to her, with her, about whatever they're doing. Not this time. No more lies.

"What's so hard to believe?" He genuinely wants to know because the more he thinks about it the angrier he gets. He's a catch. Sure, damaged and kind of an asshole but she's kind of a bitch and he likes that about her. He should do this at the very least for Annie because she believes in true love and because she believes he and Britta are the real deal and that's why he doesn't want her and maybe she's right.

"We're not sleeping together anymore." She crosses her arms in a huff and Jeff wants to take the wind out of her sails. It's a need.

"Much."

"Right." She's moved back but she's not looking him in the eye anymore. Her gaze is fixed on his chest and she's frowning.

"Then what are we doing because, it feels like we are only without the sex, which is the best part, and I don't know anymore."

"Why can't we be friends? Why do women always have to be sex objects? Can't a man and a woman be friends?"

He stands up now because he's irritated and restless. He paces on the other side if the coffee table before turning to her. "Don't make this about that feminism bullshit you know it's not. Yes men and women can be friends and no, we can't. It's not because you're a woman, it's because you're you. You're Britta."

"And you're Jeff."

"Right, and Jeff and Britta are more than friends, aren't they?" Jeff rounds on Britta and she looks confused and just as upset as he is. "Admit it!"

"I don't know!" He sighs at her admission and takes a swig of his Gin and Slimline. He wishes for a moment that he'd asked her to bring real tonic because diet isn't the same but the gin is what counts and she added extra lime just the way he likes, so it does the trick. He sits back down beside her with an exhale.

"Britta this is fucking stupid." He sinks into the couch further and closes his eyes. He can't look at her right now.

"You think I don't know that? I haven't slept with anyone since we started Anthropology! I admitted I loved you and you walked away from me and then we started the secret sex thing and I haven't even dated, I'm a leper! I'm Jeff Winger's, whatever. I'm like some love struck teenager, I feel like I'm eighteen. And for what may I ask?"

He smiles a little. It's his smug lawyer smile that he knows she hates, but he can't help it.

"For some jag of an ex-lawyer with a huge forehead, a bigger ego, a thing for teenage girls and a nipple kink."

"Hey, that's not fair. You're no spectacular catch either, you know. You're an ex-anarchist vegetarian who wears leather and can't say bagel right. You dress your cats up because you have no idea how to be funny and your name has become a second meaning for screwing something up. You dated Vaughn!"

"Hey, so did Annie!"

"I haven't slept with anyone either, thank you, including Annie. I spent a year pretending to have dates with exotic women named Gwynifer and Isabel, looking like an ass, so I could leave early to hook up with you!" It sounds so ridiculous when it's said out loud. He'd been sneaking around to hook up with a chick that has a song about how much of a bitch she is…or, a 'B.'

"Yeah, Gwynifer was stupid," Britta giggles. Jeff's concentration breaks and when he looks over she's smirking into her glass. "Not as bad as Quendra with a 'Q' though." The burst of laughter shakes the couch and then he's laughing too. Quendra with 'Q' was incredibly stupid.

"She had a professor thing." He gets out weakly, in between chuckles, and Britta folds over and sets her glass on the table in front of them. "Because I had a Lexus and-"

"And you're old!" Britta is breathing deeply through her nose, her hair is a tangle of curls, her face is flushed and even though she just insulted him Jeff thinks she's never looked more beautiful.

"Pot, kettle." He snorts and downs the rest of his Gin and Slimline before setting it down next to her abandoned glass. The ice clinks, the Ikea clock on the end table ticks and for a moment the laughter has stopped.

"We have rights," she says, "We're not captive Pandas. They can't just 'mate' us because they feel like it." She's looking like serious Britta Perry again and Jeff finds himself wishing she wouldn't. He prefers laughing, fighting, bitter Britta to sullen and serious.

He smirks again and lays his arm across the back of the sofa. Jeff thanks a god he doesn't believe in that his couch is short and his arm is long because from this angle he can move his fingers across her shoulder and he brushes the tips against her chin.

"They don't have to, because we 'mate' plenty already." There, he said it. His deadpan response and contradictory fingers derail Britta long enough for him to catch her off guard.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: 2 and ½ pages of shameless smut. If you're not interested, the ending of Chapter 2 can suffice to end the story.

Chapter 3: Love You Anytime

Britta's mouth is soft and slack. She is stunned for only a second or two before she's kissing him back. When she begins muttering about how they, "don't have to do this," he kisses her neck and that spot behind her ear that makes her dig her nails into his arm. Her skin is salty and a little sweet as he traces the edge of her ear with his tongue and sucks the lobe into his mouth.

Jeff can't believe he's actually advocating this, sober no less. She's leaned back onto the arm of the couch and he's sliding down her body placing kisses on the exposed flesh as it appears before him. She's warm and soft, softer than she looks. Britta always smells like that Organic Almond soap she uses and Bamboo shampoo and conditioner that he doesn't ever admit her steals when he stays at her place.

As he jerks the blue cotton on her tank top up, he buries his face in the cradle of her hips and breathes in. She gently wriggles beneath him while he's fiddling with the buttons on her jeans and she's got her fingers twisted in his hair. Usually she'd complain about his hair product on her hands but she won't have the opportunity this time since his hair is still a little damp and un-styled from the shower.

Jeff smiles and leaves himself a little series of red marks on her as he moves across Britta's milky white hips. They'll serve as a little possessive trail of bread crumbs on his way back.

When they get her pants off her underwear is revealed to be light pink cotton, simple and small. He knows it'll match her bra because she always matches when she can…and because Jeff noticed immediately that he could see it though her shirt. That's why it's one of his favorites. It always turns him on a little to see her in it. It's something about confused modesty and her subtle sexuality. He never said because she never takes his compliments the way he intends them. Still, he thinks she must know he likes it.

"Jeff, Jeff, this is bad, we-we said we were going to stop. Remember, it's not me, its y-you." He hears her voice above his head and although she sounds like she's implying he should stop she's shivering beneath him as he blows hot air over the junction between her legs. The front of her panties is damp and as he slides them down her legs she stops speaking and stretches out beneath him. Her curls are trimmed short and blond like the hair on her head.

He slips his tongue between her folds and flattens it as he drags it the length of her center. She keens above him and if Jeff weren't busy he would be telling her that he's winning. He flicks his tongue back and forth. Once. Twice. Three times before she's hauling him up to her face.

She kisses him fully and by now his towel is abandoned beneath them on the couch and she's reaching blindly on the ground, in her bag, as her tongue slips into his mouth and curl around his own. When she pulls out a string of condoms he breaks the kiss and laughs.

"Big weekend?" She snorts and hits him on the arm.

"I knew we were hanging out, douche." She laughs this time as she grabs his shaft and scratches her nails from the base to the tip. He drops his head and moans above her. She pushes the condom over him and pulls him towards her.

When Jeff slips into her it's no different than any other time they've done this, only, it is. She's hot and tight and wet, as per the usual, but she's looking at him as he moves in and out and she isn't looking away or closing her eyes. She shudders, gripping his shoulders. When he dips his head to the crook of her neck she nuzzles the side of his face with her own.

When her legs hook behind his back he pushes them closer to the side of the couch and she arches her back over the arm. He kisses the skin between her breasts and he can feel her reaction as she tightens around him. He moves faster and she begins making little noises in the back of her throat and it spurns him to push deeper, with less control.

Abruptly she lifts her head up and jerks her hips forward. She slips her hands between them and twists his right nipple gently. Jeff shudders and as she flicks his other nipple she pushes them off the couch and onto the floor. He's shocked and catching his breath when she sits up and rotates her hips against his. The change in pace and friction are shocking and he can feel his cock jump inside her. From this angle he's deeper in her than the previous position. She can only lift his hips and hold onto her waist as she rides him.

"This is allyour fault." She moans above him and her voice quivers and brings his attention back up to her face. Her hair is making a golden halo above her head, mostly because it's silhouetted against his ceiling fixture. Still, she looks like some kind of Nordic Princess and he feels like he's died and gone to Valhalla.

He lets his hands roam up her torso and as they cup her small breasts he can feel her legs begin to shake. He can also feel himself filling and tensing and he struggles to hold himself back. She's close and he wants to wait it out.

When she doubles over above him, squeezing her legs together, and her walls are pulling at him desperately he releases. His head tilts back, his eyes squeeze shut and his mouth opens with a grunt. When he comes back to himself he has a mouth full of blond hair and he's having trouble breathing because she's still on his chest.

He spits the hair out with a sputter and he hears a giggle come from the vicinity of her mouth. She slides off him and to the side. She's now partially under the coffee table, smiling smugly as she snuggles into his side. She stretches, a little cat-like, and settles herself.

He puts his arms behind his head and in the after-glow he wonders why he was so concerned. They can do their own thing. They don't have to be in anyone's box, they can just be Jeff Winger and Britta Perry of Greendale Community College's premier study group.

"You know, if we just do this, then they win." She's looking off across him at the couch with a little frown on her face.

"Britta, we're the ones getting laid regularly, watching documentaries and going to 'L' Street,"

"The Red Door."

"And making out whenever we want to make them feel uncomfortable. I think that pretty much implies we win."

"You think?"

She looks up at him, her lips are swollen and her eyes are bright. He can't help but smile and he un-bends an arm to wrap it around her shoulders before looking back up at the ceiling.

"Definitely."

"You know, the pizza's going to be here in like 5 minutes."

"I'll put pants on." His sigh is more for effect than anything else, he is really hungry actually.

Britta nods and begins to sit up but Jeff grabs her wrist and tugs her back down beside him. "Jeff, I should prob-"

"You don't." Britta rolls her eyes but lies back down.


	4. Chapter 4

Epilogue: Meanwhile outside…

"Why haven't they called yet? Are you sure she's still up there?" Annie Edison turns to verify that Troy and Abed had seen Britta go in before her and Shirley got there. They both nod. "They are ruining our April Fools joke," she huffs. "They should be freaking out by now!" She looks at her watch, "it's almost 6!"

"Sweetie, I'm sure they'll call one of soon, once they stop yelling at each other." Shirley nods emphatically but bites her lip. "Maybe Jeffrey told Britta he really does want to marry her so they both don't go to hell for having all that premarital sex last year."

Annie's eyebrows dip down and she shivers, "No, I don't think so Shirley."

Shirley shrugs, "wouldn't that be nice though?"

"You sure Jeff believed you?" Troy is leaning forwards, his head between the two front seats, and he has a sock puppet still on his hand from his and Abed's impromptu recreation of events for Annie and Shirley.

"Yeah, he was totally angry about it and was just sitting there when I left."

Abed cocks his head, "what if they're really in love, like Monica and Chandler or Sam and Diane, and this is the revelation episode? It would make sense in the timeline, May Sweeps start soon and new relationships always spike ratings."

Annie and Shirley groan while Troy scans the apartment entrance. "Or, maybe they got pizza? That guy from Puree's with the weird goatee is parking on the street."

Abed nods, "Jeff does order from Puree's a lot."

Annie turns in her seat to watch the pizza guy get buzzed in, "Uh, Troy, Abed, you're not helping."


End file.
